


Castles in the Sky (Please Forget to Fall Down)

by Nicnac



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Ford is an idiot, Gen, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Stan is not helping, making me feel feelings, these stupid old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Weirdmageddon doesn't happen, Ford talks a lot, but fails to communicate almost entirely, Stan is neither as old nor as bitter as he likes to pretend to be, and nobody ends up homeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castles in the Sky (Please Forget to Fall Down)

The four of them, Stan, Ford, Soos, and Wendy, stood and watched the bus carrying Mabel and Dipper back to California until it disappeared out of sight. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Stan had tried to send those two kids home this summer, but, with any luck, it should stick this time. And while it was technically still a bit too soon to call, and would be until his nephew phoned him up to confirm that Dipper, Mabel, and Waddles had arrived home to Piedmont safely, it looked like he had managed to get them through the summer without any sort of trauma, well, no significant, lasting, life-scarring trauma anyway, and without any major disasters or apocalypses.

Though it had apparently been a close call on that last one. From what Stan had gathered after the fact, if it weren’t Mabel having learned earlier in the summer not to just take her brother’s things without asking – though it was anyone’s guess who she learned it from, since it definitely hadn’t been Stan – then she might have handed over a hole in the universe to some triangle demon thing that would have used it to bring about the end of the world. Luckily, everything had turned out okay, and Dipper had learned a valuable lesson about discussing potential major life changes with the people close to him before making any decisions, especially when those changes were going to affect them too, while Ford had learned that trusting no one and keeping every last little thing a secret from everyone could still lead to catastrophe, and it would be no less worse for being caused by ignorance rather than deliberate malice. And Stan hadn’t learned a damn thing, except maybe that absence never made Ford’s heart grow any fonder, but he had already known that. He’d just forgotten it at some point in the last thirty years.

Stan shooed Soos and Wendy off on home, telling them that he was closing the Mystery Shack today. He left the ‘for good’ part off because… well, he hadn’t told them yet and at this point it looked like he wasn’t going to at all. Let them show up at the Shack tomorrow and just figure it out for themselves. Not that Stan was planning on leaving them jobless or anything. Just because the Shack wasn’t going to be the _Mystery_ Shack anymore, that didn’t mean things were going to just stop breaking, so Ford would probably still need a handy man, since he was going to be too bust with his science stuff to want to waste time fixing it all himself. As for Wendy, when Ford was left to his own devices, he had a tendency to forget the little things, like sleeping and eating on a semi-regular basis. Stan wasn’t sure if glorified babysitter was considered better or worse than cashier on the teenage job hierarchy, but she could do it, and she’d probably like it better than getting sent to logging camp next summer. Stan hadn’t discussed any of this with Ford yet, but he’d agree to it. He’d better, since Stan was going to leave the unicorn gold behind to pay for it.

“So,” Stan said once he was absolutely sure it was just the two of them – Soos had a tendency to linger on occasion in the hopes of ‘accidentally’ overhearing Stan talking about how great he was. Of course, he probably wouldn’t still be doing that if Stan hadn’t indulged him on occasion, but apparently he was going soft in his old age. So sue him. “Are you going to give me today to get my stuff together and let me leave fresh in the morning, or am I going to get back to the Shack to find my bag already packed and ready to go?”

Ford honest-to-Moses jumped at that, like he wasn’t expecting to hear anyone talk to him. Maybe he had been hoping that Stan would just fade away into the trees once Dipper and Mabel left. “What? Neither,” Ford said, like he thought it was a ridiculous question.

“You want me to pack up the Mystery Shack before I leave,” Stan assumed. “That’s fair.” It would be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, and he had once self-taught himself enough physics and engineering to repair a broken portal to another dimension, but it was fair. The Mystery Shack was the one good thing that Stan had ever been able to make completely on his own, but it was fair. It wasn’t honest work, exactly, but people who came to these types of tourist traps expected to be swindled into seeing cheesy exhibits and conned into buying overpriced and cheaply made trinkets at the gift shop, so it was an honest sort of dishonesty and the only thing that Stan had ever been really good at, but. It was fair.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Ford protested. “I just… Why must you always jump to wild conclusions?”

“When have I ever jumped to conclusions? Wait, don’t answer that.” Not that Stan thought he made a habit of jumping to conclusions or anything, but he was sure that Ford had every single instance of it tucked away in that big brain of his and anything would sound bad if you just said it all at once like that; best not even go down that road. “Anyway maybe I wouldn’t have to jump to conclusions if you would just say things straight out. I’m 68 and about to be homeless, I don’t have time for your word games.”

“You’re 58; we’re both 58,” Ford corrected. “If you’re going to lie about your age, your twin is not the best person to try it on.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Even if you’d been keeping track while you were gone, time probably could have been passing in all kind of weird ways in other dimensions.”

“That’s probably true, but you’ve told me yourself, on multiple occasions, that I was gone for thirty years,” Ford pointed out. “Besides, I got sucked into the portal in 1982 and it is now 2012; I have 12 PhDs, I am capable of simple arithmetic.”

 “Good point. Well, just don’t,” Stan began, then stopped himself. It wouldn’t matter if it got around, he wasn’t going to be in Gravity Falls long enough to scam anyone for the senior citizen discount again anyway. “Never mind. Just tell me what you’re trying to say, so I can be on my way.”

“That’s just my point, you don’t have to be on your way at all,” Ford said.

Stan started to feel his hopes raise up, and he squashed them down firmly. He’d been down this road with Ford too many times before – his brother had a knack for phrasing things in just the right way to make Stan take them completely wrong – and he wasn’t going to do it again. He _couldn’t_ do it again. “Really? Because I distinctly remember you telling me that I had until the end of the summer, on account of me watching Dipper and Mabel, and then you wanted your name and your house back. You seemed pretty sure to me.”

“I’ve been sure about a lot of things, that doesn’t always mean I was right.” Ford sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so bad at this.”

“The great Stanford Pines, bad at something?” Stan said his voice half sarcastic and half totally sincere.

“I’m serious, Stanley. You know I’ve never been good at the people thing.” Stan supposed that was true. Way back when, Stan even used to… not translate, exactly, because that made Ford sound like he was some kind of idiot, but he did help Ford find the best words to communicate whatever it was he was trying to say. Back then, no matter what Ford actually said or how many big words he used to say it, Stan had always known what he meant. But it had been a very long time since he had understood Ford like that. “I guess… look, our father wasn’t a very good person, right?”

“Dad was an unrepentant asshole and probably still is in whatever hell he’s rotting in,” Stan said bluntly. “What’s your point?”

“My point is I never wanted to be like him,” Ford said.

“Then you realized you were kicking me out just like he did, and now you feel bad,” Stan concluded, with an inward grimace. He didn’t want Ford’s pity. Hell, he didn’t want anyone’s pity, but it seemed so much worse coming from Ford. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. One thing in common hardly makes the two of you the same person, and kicking out a man who has been supporting himself for over forty years is a bit different than kicking out a seventeen year old without a high school diploma. I’ll figure something out. I was fine back then, and I will be now.”

Ford practically exploded at him. “You chewed your way out of the trunk of a car. That’s not fine, Stanley!”

This time it was Stan’s turn to be startled, but instead of jumping, he froze. That probably said something deep and significant about their characters, but Stan wasn’t in a place to think about that now, too busy trying to force away the remembered throbbing in his lips and the taste of blood in his mouth. “How did you know about that?”

“You told me. You’ve been to prison in three countries, you once had to chew your way out of the trunk of car, and you had a mullet. Though I confess I was never able to figure out what Dad kicking you out of the house had to do with your poor taste in hairstyles.”

Of course, the fight. “I’m surprised you remembered.” Stan remembered every single moment of the fight himself – well, maybe not every single moment, not anymore. Thirty years was a long time, long enough to blur the edges of some memories, especially when Stan had been riding his body so hard that his motto practically was that he could sleep when ~~he was a millionaire and back home~~ ~~he was somewhere safe from Marcus~~ ~~Jorge~~ ~~Rita~~ ~~Johnny~~ ~~Sergei~~ ~~Rico~~ ~~he had helped Ford with whatever he needed~~ ~~he had fixed the portal~~ ~~he had gotten the portal working again~~ ~~Ford was back home~~ ~~Ford had forgiven him~~ he was dead. But for Stan that fight had been a defining moment, _the_ defining moment even, in his life. It was the day that Stanford got lost in another dimension and the day Stanley had died – whatever his death certificate might say – so that all that was left of either them was the shell of a man trying to be both and succeeding at neither and just hoping for the day he got his brother back so he might be whole again. And looked at how well that turned out for him.

Not that he was saying that it hadn’t been a pretty big day for Ford too. Stan just wouldn’t have expected him to dwell on it the way he had; it’s not like the fight was _Ford’s_ fault or anything. Plus, even after he got sucked into that sci-fi sideburn dimension or whatever, Ford was still Ford, just Ford in a sci-fi sideburn dimension. Again, Stan wasn’t saying that he thought that Ford got the better deal or that Stan wished that he had been the one sucked into the portal (of course he had, a million times over, because Stan was supposed to be the strong one and able to put up a fight against whatever monsters or baddies that existed on the far side of that portal, and Ford was the smart one who probably could have cut Stan’s thirty year job of fixing the portal down to an hour or two), but it was different, is all.

“Why wouldn’t I remember? Do you know how many times I ran our fight over in my head, trying to figure out what went wrong?” Ford said. “Though admittedly, I tried to forget after the first year or five.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s when I realized you weren’t coming for me.  And as long as I didn’t think about that fight, I could convince myself it was because you were being smart about it: one person wasn’t worth the fate of the entire universe. After a while I even started to believe I never wanted you to rescue me in the first place. That’s part of the reason I was so angry when you finally did manage to pull me through the portal.” Ford paused, and Stan wanted to jump in and say, ‘of course I was going to rescue you, I’ll always be there to save you if you need me, you’re my brother,’ but he kept his big mouth shut. That kind of mushy stuff would be embarrassing enough to say even if Ford hadn’t made it very clear he didn’t return the feeling.

After a moment, Ford continued. “I shouldn’t have punched you.” What? The only thing Stan could think of was the fight, but while they had both done a lot of grappling and shoving, Stan was the only one who had thrown a punch as far as he could remember, not to mention he’s the one who started the whole thing with threatening to burn Ford’s journal, so he didn’t see where Ford needed to feel guilty about that. Unless this was one of those stupid, ‘just because you resorted to violence, that doesn’t mean I have to, because I’m better than that,’ kind of deals. In which case Ford could go – “When I came back through the portal, I mean. I shouldn’t have punched you. I’m not saying you didn’t deserve to get punched for pulling a harebrained stunt like that and risking causing an apocalypse just to save one person, but I certainly didn’t have the moral high ground in that situation, since I was the one to create the portal in the first place, so I shouldn’t have been the one to punch you. And I am sorry about that.”

Just like that, Stan’s anger deflated. Given the choice, Stan would have preferred a thank you for rescuing him to an apology, but hey, it was something at least. “Don’t worry about it,” Stan said, unconsciously rubbing at his jaw. “I’ve had more than my fair share of punches in the face, and a lot worse than that too.”

“Stanley. That’s not the kind of thing you say to make someone _not_ worry,” Ford said.

Stan shrugged, trying to pretend like he wasn’t getting a warn feeling spreading through his chest. “It is what it is. So does all this mean you’re alright with me staying for a little while, until I find my own place?” Stan didn’t have a whole lot of money saved – most of what he earned had either gone back into the Shack or toward fixing the portal – but he had a bit tucked away. If he used that, and dipped into the unicorn gold a bit, he could maybe buy himself a new Mystery Shack. Still in the woods in Gravity Falls, of course, but maybe a bit closer to the interstate, to better attract the tourists. Soos would come with Stan to the new place, of course, but Wendy would have to stay behind with Ford. Any idiot teenager could work a cash register, but Stan would need someone he could trust watching over his brother. Yeah, that could work.

“No, that’s not what I meant at all.”

Right. Don’t build up your hopes, Stan, take them and crush them down and grind them into dust. “Do you mind telling me what you do mean, then?”

“I’m trying, but you keep jumping to conclusions and not letting me finish,” Ford said.

“Fine. Go ahead and say what you want to say; I’m all ears,” said Stan, crossing his arms and putting on his best listening expression. It must not have been very convincing, because Ford was looking pretty irritated with him, but started talking once Stan waved him on.

“Okay, where to begin? I’ve been to a lot of different dimensions in the last thirty years, some of them indescribable paradises and others unspeakable hells,” Ford said, definitely not getting to the point in any way. But then that was just Ford, at least when he wasn’t being secretive and closed-mouthed. Why say in one sentence what you could explain in twenty? It was annoying as hell at times, right now for instance, but Stan couldn’t ever really get mad at Ford for just being his nerdy self.

“But of all the places I’ve been to, none of them were as hard to adjust to as being back home again. Everything’s changed so much since I’ve been gone. That stupid personal computers fad has gotten so big, and the computers themselves have gotten so small, that everyone has one installed in their car phone these days, and the car phones don’t even have to stay in your car! The TV has thousands of different channels, all the movies are in 3D, nobody says ‘greetings’ anymore, and apparently seeing-eye bears exist.”

Stan winced a little. “I may have actually made that last one up to get out of being arrested for letting a bear drive my car.”

“That just proves my point,” Ford insisted. “I can’t even tell reality from the stupid things you make up any more. I bet people still say ‘greetings’ too.”

“Nobody ever said ‘greetings,’ outside of cheesy sci-fi movies,” Stan informed him belligerently. The things he made up were not stupid! Okay, maybe they were, but that was only because the people in Gravity Falls were so unbelievably dumb, he’d gotten a little out of practice with coming up with the really good lies. Sure he had to lie to the tourist too, but that was not exactly a sharp bunch either.

“Regardless, I spent thirty years wandering the multiverse, going from dimension to dimension and hoping that I might stumble my way back home again someday. Then when I finally get here” – when Stan finally brought him home; that was an important factor that Stan felt they should have been acknowledging – “it’s nothing like I remember. Do you have any idea what it’s like to work toward something for thirty years and to achieve it, only to have the end results be nothing like you thought it would be?”

“No, I’ve got no idea what that’s like,” Stan said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Sarcasm that went right over Ford’s head.

“It’s devastating,” Ford ‘explained’ and Stan heroically fought down the urge to hit him. “But I had a plan to make it all easier. Sure I couldn’t turn the whole world back to the way it was in the 80’s, but I could at least get my life back to normal for the most part. Get myself reestablished in the academic world, get my house and my labs back to the way they were, and go out investigating the oddities surrounding Gravity Falls again like I used to. I was even going to have a partner again, or an apprentice rather.”

Oh yeah, that. Stan was still pretty ticked off at Ford about that whole mess. Sure, he had relented on his ‘no interacting with the kids’ stance when he’d seen how happy Dipper and Ford were playing their nerd game together, but Stan had expected Ford to be a responsible adult about it. And Stan had once gotten the kids thrown into the county jail for helping to counterfeit money, so it’s not like his standards were all that high. Just don’t deliberately drag them into dangerous situations, like Ford had apparently been doing with Dipper behind Stan’s back this whole time and had wanted to start doing in a semi-official capacity. Not to mention that for someone with 12 PhDs, Ford seemed to have a not very good grasp of the value of an official formal education. Sure, Ford got paid all kinds of grant money to study the weird and unexplained, but no one was going to offer Dipper the same opportunity on Ford’s word alone when the kid didn’t even have a high school diploma. Hell, Dipper hadn’t even finished junior high yet. And then poor Mabel. Which hey, Stan got it, Dipper couldn’t base all his life decisions around what his twin wanted; Stan had learned his lesson from the science fair disaster, even if he wasn’t sure that Ford had. And Ford and Dipper hadn’t known that Mabel had had a terrible day and it was the worst time possible to drop something like that on her, so Stan didn’t blame them for that. But Stan didn’t think Ford had even considered for a moment how it might affect her, and that wasn’t… You couldn’t just upset someone’s whole life like that without even a passing thought for the fact that you were doing it. All of which Stan told Ford, loudly and at length, once the whole ‘almost causing the apocalypse’ thing had been settled and the kids had been sent with Soos to get ice cream to help soothe over any still hurt feelings.

Stan must’ve started scowling or something, because Ford immediately went on the defensive. “Of course, I realize now that asking almost thirteen year old Dipper to drop everything else in his life to be my apprentice was not the most well thought-out plan. You can yell at me more later if you feel you must, but I am trying to tell you something here.”

Slightly mollified, Stan said, “Okay. But don’t think I won’t hold you to that yelling at you thing.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ford said. “Did Dipper ever tell you why he decided to turn my offer down?”

Stan shrugged. Honestly, once he saw that the kids had worked out any issues between them and Dipper had come to senses, he wasn’t all that worried about the whys of it all. Sure, he’d be there for the kids if they ever needed to talk, but he didn’t see any reason to go nosing into their business unless they wanted him to. “I figured it had something to do with the fact Mabel was so upset over it that she nearly accidentally jump started the end of the world as we know it.”

“That was certainly part of it. Dipper and I had a long talk the day after everything had settled down. And I feel  should let you know we did discuss the possibility of him taking the apprenticeship up after he turns eighteen,” Ford said, giving Stan a look that might have been a little bit nervous. Stan made a vague approving sort of noise. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get behind the idea of the kids putting themselves in danger, no matter how old they got, but he wasn’t going to get in the way of an adult Dipper making his own decisions about his life. Besides, being Ford’s apprentice was way better than anything Stan had been getting up to at that age. “But most of what we talked about was his feelings regarding the apprenticeship and why he didn’t think it was the right choice for him at the moment. A lot of it was focused on Mabel and how they would both be worse off for not having each other, but there was one comment he made that really stuck out to me. He said he ‘didn’t want to spend his teen years cooped up in a basement with a lab coat.’ I’ve spent the past week thinking about that, about everything that Dipper said really, and I’ve come to the realization that he was right, but about me. I was so upset about everything that had happened, but rather than dealing with it, I was going to, to bury my head in the sand about it, like the burrowing keazles of Dimension 63~.”

“Or like an ostrich,” Stan said dryly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Ostriches don’t actually bury their heads in the sand; that’s just a myth.”

Stan punched him. Not hard, barely more than a love tap really, just enough to sting. “Honestly Stanley,” Ford said, rubbing his shoulder. “Brains and punching does not mean you have to punch something every time I say anything remotely intellectual.”

Stan wasn’t sure how to take that: it could be Ford acting all superior again, or it might be friendly teasing. It sure sounded like teasing, but that sounded like getting his hopes up, and Stan wasn’t doing that anymore. So in the end he just smirked and let Ford keep talking.

“Of course, hiding from the world isn’t going to fix the fact that there have been so many changes that I missed. If anything, it would only make it worse. I might come out of my lab one day a realize that while I wasn’t paying attention the Soviet Union took over the world and the remaining capitalists have fled to the planet Pluto or something.”

“Yeah, neither of those things exist anymore. I mean, Pluto is still out there in outer space somewhere, but it’s not a planet; it’s like a baby planet or something,” Stan told him.

“Capitalism is dead? How did I miss us all becoming communists?”

“What? No, the Soviet Union broke apart. Capitalism is definitely still around. You think I could run the Shack the way I do if we were all a bunch of commies? How little attention have you been paying?”

“Very little,” Ford admitted. “In my defense I have had been dealing with the world potentially coming to an end. But you’re right. I need to get out of my lab more. I need someone to help remind me to get out of my lab more.”

Good, Ford wasn’t going to be stubborn about this. “I was actually thinking that after the Mystery Shack closes down, Wendy could stay and –"

“I don’t want Wendy; I _want_ my _brother_.”

Stan felt his brain come to a screeching halt. “What?” he said, his voice coming out weird and shake-y.

“Have you been watching the way Dipper and Mabel are together at all this summer? I admit I wasn’t at first, but I have this past week. The way they support each other and work off each other: they’re a team, the way we used to be. And it made me realize how much I miss that. So I want you to stay and I want us to work out our problems, so we can maybe get that back. If that’s what you want,” said Ford.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” said Stan.

“Well, I know I haven’t been the best brother over the past month,” Ford said uncertainly, setting the part of Stan that hated to see Ford hurt warring with the part of him that was still upset about finally rescuing his brother only to immediately get punched in the face for his efforts. Stan told the second part of him to shut up.

“Hey, I spent thirty years rebuilding a dimensional portal to get you back. I’m not going to be put off by you acting like a bastard for a couple of weeks. Though way to bury the lead, Ford. You couldn’t have just opened with ‘I changed my mind about kicking you out, and I actually want you to stay in the Shack with me’?”

“I was trying to explain why I made both of those decisions,” Ford protested. “I was serious when I said I wanted us to talk about our issues. Avoiding that is what got us in this mess in the first place.”

Stan thought there was more to it than that – their dad kicking him out and all that stuff that asshole triangle had been up to, for example – but he guessed that Ford had a point too. “Well we’ve got plenty of time to do that now, don’t we?”

Ford smiled. “You’re right.”

“Hey, does this mean I get to keep the Mystery Shack?” Stan asked.

“…We’ll talk about it,” Ford said. In other words, no.

“Would this be a good time to bring up that the Mystery Shack is what paid off the mortgage on the house?” Stan said. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up before, because no matter how much of his own mark he’d made and it had become his home, it had always been _Ford’s_ house. And Stan didn’t want to make it a big deal or sound like he was trying to take the place from Ford. But if they were both staying, then Stan wasn’t above playing dirty a little bit.

Ford looked completely taken by surprised and a bit confused even. Stan guessed he probably didn’t have to deal too much with things like mortgages and utility bills when he’d been traveling through all those different dimensions. After a moment, comprehension dawned in his eyes and sounding a bit embarrassed and a lot more like one of Ma’s ‘we’ll sees’ than Pa’s, he said, “We can talk about it when we get home.”

“Heh, that sounds pretty good,” Stan said, more thinking out loud than anything. “Home.”

The two walked back to where the Stanleymobile was parked. They had both gotten into the car and Stan had started the engine when Ford spoke again. “Stanley, I need to ask. Back thirty years ago when I asked you to take my journal and sail off with it…”

“Yeah?” Stan said, his whole body going tense.

“I thought you’d be pleased; you were always so excited about the idea of sailing off and hunting for treasure in the Stan O’ War. But it was never about the boat, was it?”

Stan laughed. “You’re just now figuring that out? Geez Sixer, you really are the world’s dumbest genius. Don’t get me wrong, sailing the ocean looking for adventure does sound like a good time, and I still think Stan O’ War is a good name for a boat – I even named my fishing boat that – but no, it wasn’t really about the boat.”

Ford nodded thoughtfully. “You know, even with the rift sealed off, hopefully for good, our first priority still has to be finding a way to banish Bill from our dreamscapes permanently, or at least for the next couple of lifetimes. I have couple of ideas, but that’ll probably take us through mid-winter at the earliest. And then after that I have a couple of other projects here in Gravity Falls that I wanted to tackle and those will probably take until the end of spring, and I’m sure we’ll want to be here for the summer in case Dipper and Mabel want to visit again, but after that…”

Ford trailed off and Stan could actually see him changing his mind about wat he was going to say next. “You know I haven’t been fishing in decades. Well, I suppose there was this one time in Dimension 28-9Apricot that was a bit like fishing, although they did it with these electromagnetic bombs,  and the fish were covered in feathers and deathly poisonous to almost all the native creatures of that Dimension; they tasted like –“

“Ford,” Stan interrupted. “Did you want to go out fishing with me sometime?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Ford asked, blinking in confusion.

“Not really. But hey, it doesn’t matter; I understood you anyway.” Stan said, giving his brother a shoulder bump. It didn’t feel quite natural and not just because it was an awkward maneuver while they were in the car, but like maybe they weren’t to the point of casual shoulder bumps yet. But nobody got angry or died or anything, and Stan had powered through situations more awkward than this one, so, yeah, they’d get there. “Tell me more about this fishing you were doing in the apple dimension, or whatever it was called.”

“Dimension 28-9 _Apricot_ ,” Ford corrected. “Though I suppose it doesn’t matter that much, since apricot is only a very crude English translation of the actual word. And the ‘apricots’ themselves are actual twice the size of your head and debatably sentient, I never came to a firm decision on that one.”

“Fishing,” Stan prompted.

“Right, fishing,” Ford said. “Well now these fish, if you want to call them that…”

Stan let Ford’s happy nerd babble wash over him. It was nice to know that not everything that happened to him on the other side of that portal had been bad; Stan had been worried by the way Ford had been avoiding talking about it. Of course, he had also been avoiding talking to Stan in general, but still. As to what Ford had been going to say before he had changed the subject to fishing, Stan thought he had a pretty good idea. Though, maybe Stan was wrong. Or maybe he was right, but the reason Ford hadn’t said it was because he realized he didn’t really mean it, he was just getting caught up in the moment for a second or two. Or maybe he had meant it, but only in a vague sort of way, and he didn’t think it would ever really happen.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be okay for Stan to hope again. Just a little bit.


End file.
